If These Walls Could Talk -- Part 1
by Crea314
Summary: The secrets of Manticore are told by one of its own. This is a finished story, but I'm going through and revamping it, adding details, etc. All chapters have been re-done! Enjoy and please review.
1. Years In the Making

Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel; I won't be making a profit from Dark Angel, etc.   
  
If These Walls Could Talk   
Manticore's Inside Story  
  
Part 1: Years in the Making   
  
INTRO:   
  
I've been here since the beginning. Brought in back before the turn of the century. A dozen or so of us were sent in to repair and remodel the big, old building. Wyoming was a cold that early in the year -- especially back in the forests. The forest. Locals around these parts told stories -- legends about it. Old folk tales of sprits and hauntings -- told at the drop of a hat. Working on that building, with no one around you, sure gave the mind time to wander. There was one particular legend I kept coming back to. It went somethin' like this: 


	2. The Legend

The Legend:   
  
It was said by the town folk that back in the days of settlers and pioneers, the gold rush and the general migration westward, that a small, close knit group of settlers built themselves a nice little village -- right here on this very land I was now working on. Why they picked this isolated spot in the forest was beyond me, but that's how the story goes. They did pretty well the first year, fishin' and huntin', I assume loggin' and farmin' a bit. Sounds like a pretty good life to me, simple an all. Spring turned to summer, summer to fall, fall to winter. And you know how bad things tend to happen in then winter. There's somethin' about longer nights and a chill in the bones that makes people nervous. Specially out here in this 'ol forest.  
  
Round about the time of the New Year, the winter turned real harsh. Some folks say 30 feet of snow fell and temperatures were in the negatives for a month. I don't know how much of that is true an' all, these tales get worse and worse each they're told. But in any case, it'd be hard to keep from starvin' in conditions like that -- for anything, human or animal.   
  
Spring finally rolled around, in her usual lazy way. No one heard from the settlers. A near-by town, where supposedly a few relatives lived, sent out a search party. What that search party found was the beginning of this here legend. The log cabins were wrecked -- doors ripped right off their hinges, windows lookin' like someone, or something, had tried to rip through the walls before smashin' right on through. Two of the cabins had holes right through the roof -- like sharp claws had ripped clean through the boards. Inside was worse. Furniture was smashed, blankets shredded. Long claw marks were everywhere, walls, ceilings, and floor -- claw marks of something big, something fierce. Something made of the stuff of legends.   
  
The people were nowhere to be found. To the horror of the search party, all they could find of them were shredded, blood stained clothes and patches of dried blood on the floors and walls. The search party gathered together, real shaken and scared. As they prepared to leave and tell their sad story, two pairs of large, yellow, almond cat eyes were spotted, starring at them from under the thick forest brush. The party ran for their lives -- and no one returned to the site for 20 some years.   
  
Legend has it that a young, rebellious man -- said he didn't believe in such tales, went walking towards the old settler's site on lazy afternoon. Wanted to explore a little. Find out for himself what happened. By that time all that was left of the cabins were the old rotting foundations. Curiously drawn onward, the man walked on into the silent wood.   
  
Without warning, the man suddenly found himself slammed face down onto the forest floor. He tried to roll over but was struck sharply in the head. Sharp claws were in digging into his skin. His wrist was twisted around behind his back and the man stifled a scream when he felt the bones snap. The soft, four beat patter of a cat's walk reached his ears -- and then the two beat step of a human. The young man opened his eyes long enough to see a huge mountain lion, readying to pounce, and then, a human face close to his, peering into his eyes. But before he could say a word, the lion pounced and everything went black.   
  
Dusk was falling when he finally awoke. Pain seared through his arms and back. But thankfully he could still walk. Stumbling along, he slowly made his way back out of the forest. No sound was heard except for his staggering steps. Yet, he still had the feeling that he was being watched. A stick cracked. His head snapped up. A girl stood not 15 feet in front of him. Probably 20, her fawny hair reached to her waist, looking like it had never been cut. Wide, almond shaped, yellow eyes starred at him, unblinking. But, before he could take another breath, she was vanished.  
  
People say they've seen her since that day. Just when the legend is about to die away she seems to pop up again. You know people and their traditions. No one knows what happened to that boy once he got back home and told his story... But that was over 150 years ago, and I had too much work to do on this building site to let my mind get caught up in fairy tales. Still, occasionally the hair on the back of my neck would stand straight up and I would get the feeling of being watched. One time I could've sworn I saw a pair of yellow, almond eyes peering from under the brush and the shadow of a girl before me. But then again, that's what'll happen to the male mind when not occupied with much... 


	3. The Troops Arrive

The Troops Arrive:   
  
  
So here I was, 150 years post-legend, heading a small reconstruction group in the midst of this dark forest.   
  
"Hey Jones!" came a call, no one ever used my first name on site.   
  
"Yeah?" I asked, glancing up from the forms I was filling out.  
  
"What was it you said this place was gonna be called, M... somethin'... I can't ever remember, some of the new guys wanna know."   
  
"Manticore." I responded bluntly -- and how many more times was I going to have to explain that...? Who knows. Probably a hundred. Manticore. The name intrigued me. I had read the definition a hundred times or so: 'a monstrous creature, which inhabits the forests. The Manticore, considered to be a dangerous predator, body of a lion and a head with human resemblance. The mouth is filled with three rows of razor-sharp teeth and the scaled tail ends in a ball with poisonous darts. The monster stalks through the forest in search of humans. Upon an encounter with a human, the Manticore fires a volley of darts at the victim, who dies immediately.' Now I'm asking, why the hell would they name a building that?! Were they trying to curse it right from the get-go? Ironic though. Cat/human monster, well, that was probably just an interesting coincidence.   
  
Anyway, construction and repairs were almost finished; the place would be operational in a week or so. 'I wonder what they're going to do with this place,' I often thought.   
  
The big, six-story high building looked a bit out of place out here, in the middle of nowhere. It should've been in a city, not in the middle of a forest! After some thought, I decided the structure was quite a bit like that of a prison -- lots of different blocks, many single cells, long hallways, and small office areas. Not to mention the security measures and the perimeter fence. And the parts that didn't give the appearance of a prison were built like a military barrack: huge gyms with obstacle courses and training facilities. Nothing I would want to run through! Not to mention the padded sparring rooms, a large pool area/water complex... and that was just the inside! Outside there were more training fields, obstacles, pools, and of course, the ever present forest.   
  
One hallway lead down to another section, not designed like the rest. The doors had special clearance locks; the rooms were white, too white. The environment was so sterile I felt bad walking in there with my work boots on. Minus the equipment and the smell it could've been a hospital. But I dismissed that notion -- what would they need a personal hospital for anyway?   
  
I had just finished the final paint touches on the helicopter pad when a familiar hovering sound filled the air. I'd finished just in time apparently. Three black helicopters landed within minutes. Men in black uniforms jumped out, filling into line. One man, looked to be about 30 maybe 35, clad in a leather jacket stepped out more slowly. He was obviously in command. He had the air of a confident young commander. He glanced at me and asked;   
  
"Who's in charge here young man?" In a curt, commanding tone.  
  
"I am sir." I replied, and I was, sorta -- if anyone was.   
  
"What's your name soldier?" He asked in the same tone.  
  
"Jones, sir." Soldier? Must be military habit to address everyone in that manner...   
  
"Lydecker." He introduced himself coolly. Turning to his men, "move out," he ordered and they filled towards the building in the classic, well-trained military fashion.   
  
"Is the building ready for us Jones?" He asked, turning back to me with one eyebrow raised.  
  
"Yes sir, final touches were finished today." I answered in my best confident tone.  
  
"Good work," he nodded curtly and started to turn away, then "Jones, show me around a bit, I'll need to know every inch of this place." I nodded in response and lead the way inside. 


	4. Interior Decorating

Interior Decorating:   
  
  
For the next week the place was swarming with people: ordinary soldiers, officers, and some civilians. Equipment was brought in by the truckload: computers, desks, cots, training gear, you name it. The little team I headed was kept onsite to help with the set-up of the whole operation. I was with Lydecker most of the time -- showing him and other people around, helping things run smoothly -- no one knew the building better then I did. No one.  
  
Lydecker. He was a tough man. Determined and powerful. He threw all his energy into getting Manticore up and running; the kind of man who's own inspirations guided others. He gave orders, they were followed. But, he was also secretive, like he always had something else in the back of his mind. Something you were never going to get to. Occasionally I'd see a glimmer of youthful excitement on his face, but a moment later he'd be back to business; black leather jacket, walkie-talkie and all. He kept it all inside that shell, the military shell all soldiers build. But with him, you could just tell the ideas were brewing.   
  
The building began to take on an identity of its own. Sector 1 became the main control center -- offices, computers, cameras and monitors; everything Lydecker would need to remain in total control. Sector 4 became the mess hall and kitchen area, sector 6 the security area, Sector 2 the infirmary, the list went on. There were 14 sectors in total.   
  
"Jones!" The sharp call seemed to echo threateningly down the hall.  
  
"Yes sir?" I replied as Lydecker walked up me. We headed down the hall to Section 1. He lead me into a small, two room section just off the main part of the nerve center.   
  
"This is where I want you. You are my new building manager. Your duties are to know absolutely everything about this building. Take care of repairs, keep track of who enters and who leaves, everything. You'll report to me." He gestured into my new space as he spoke in his usual assertive tone.  
  
"Yes sir!" I replied sharply.   
  
"You can set up your office in here -- and a cot and dresser in there," he indicated to the next room.   
  
"Yes sir, thank you sir." It was good to have job security.  
  
"Do you have any problems living on site?" He asked.  
  
"No sir." I didn't -- no one to go home to anyway. Besides, I had a feeling this place would only get more fascinating with time.  
  
"Very well then. Whatever you need to do your job, you let me know, we'll get you the equipment." I smiled at his back as he walked out. He hadn't asked if I wanted the job, just had known I'd take it -- he seemed to have a way with people like that.   
  
I scanned my new quarters. This was turning out well. I had a home, a job, and a community to be a part of. For the moment, life was good. 


	5. These Secret Rooms

These Secret Rooms:   
  
  
"Sir, we have a shipment of Medical equipment to be delivered here." Medical equipment?!? I double-checked my inventory list. Yup, that's what it said. 'Medical Equipment to Sector 9.' I opened the doors and let the delivery boys in. Sector 9...so that odd back section that was too white was going to be a hospital of sorts. Interesting. Must be expecting plenty of injuries or something of that sort. That was odd -- guess this branch of the military was pretty tough. "Wonder what they'll do..." I thought to myself as I directed the delivery boys into Sector 9.   
  
Sector 3 was divided up into 20 blocks. Each block had one long room with cots all neatly lined up, a multi-person bathroom, and another, slightly smaller padded sparing room attached at the back wall.   
  
"Who'll be living here, sir?" I asked Lydecker one day as we toured through the building, inspecting the progress.   
  
"My soldiers," he replied with a glimmer in his eye. His mind seemed to jump ahead into the future somewhere, as if he was reviewing a dream.  
  
"When will they be here sir?" I asked cautiously. He'd been known to snap people's heads off when that glimmer in his eye appeared.  
  
"Oh, not for a year or so," came the quick reply. The glimmer quickly vanished.   
  
I didn't push for more info. We'd been working together closely for a month now -- I knew when to ask and when to hold my tongue. But that didn't mean I wasn't curious. I wondered what the words 'my soldiers' meant. I wondered what kind of soldiers would occupy the many blocks. I wondered a lot. It seemed everyday a new mystery was uncovered. I was liking this new job already!  
  
My office was fully functional now -- had a great new computer, a direct phone line to anywhere I needed, and a TV with hook-ups to all of the surveillance cameras on the property. One day, while setting up programs on my computer, I switched on the TV surveillance, just to check things out. Sector 5 randomly came on screen. Men were setting up chalkboards, rows of desks, projectors, and bookshelves, even textbooks. Classrooms? 'What the hell does a military training facility need with class rooms?' Curiosity got the better of me. I took over control of the camera and zoomed in on the textbooks. Chemistry, Biology, Physics, Genetics, even History, Geography and Calculus. Looked to be about college level or higher. I looked to another shelf: "Escape and Evade" "The Art of War" "Tactics of Torture" "Hand to Hand Combat" "Surveillance and Recon" "Weaponry" to name a few. Freighting books if you'd ask me. No pictures. Just bold black type projecting its message. They must be going to teach new recruits out of high school or something. That had to be it; after all, it wasn't like little children were going to be running around.   
  
I put those thoughts aside. It was my job to take care of the building, not wonder about its function. But still, there were many strange things about this place. Class rooms, a medical facility, Sector 3 for 'Lydecker's soldiers,' and now Sector 7 had a sign on it that said "Psychological Unit." I was going to have to ask Lydecker about that one.   
  
Speaking of Lydecker, I flipped through the cameras till I found him. I needed to run some ideas past him and it was easier to find him on camera then walkin' all over this huge place looking. He was speaking to an older soldier and a fair-haired woman in a white lab coat when I found him. I turned the camera's microphone on, just out of curiosity of course.   
  
"The building is ready, I want to get things underway." Lydecker said. His young, commanding voice was clear and purposeful.  
  
"The training grounds are fully operational. The perimeter fence is up and functional. We are ready for them sir," the soldier replied curtly.   
  
"I want to run a few more tests first -- make sure the research equipment is working properly," the doctor added. Her feminine voice sounded strangely out of place.  
  
"All right then, two weeks." Lydecker set the deadline and strode away. 


	6. Feline DNA

Feline DNA:   
  
  
I followed the doctor, via the cameras, back to Sector 9. I almost felt bad. I mean, it wasn't exactly my business now was it? But hey, I was responsible for everything that went on in this building. Therefore, I had a right to know. Or at least, that's how I justified my surveillance to myself. When I made the final switch to the camera in the lab I saw four lab techs mixing solutions and testing machines. Well, that's what it looked like they were doing anyway. I never was big on science experiments and the like.  
  
"How are the labs coming?" the doc asked. She peered over a young tech's shoulder. He was fiddling with some crazy lookin' machine.  
  
"All equipment is fully functional and responding nicely." Came an almost mechanical response.   
  
"Good." She turned to another tech who was peering into a microscope. "Any results yet with the research?" The doctor asked. Her tone sounded perplexed.  
  
"DNA testing is showing positive results with feline cattus, but not feline panthera tigris." The young woman responded, moving aside so the doc could look into the scope.  
  
"Keep working. The results have to have more the just regular feline abilities; they need to be stronger, faster, and smarter. I want them to have the cheetah's speed, tiger's fierce strength, and the mountain lion's cunning. Understand?" It would not be wise to answer in the negative with the tone she used just then.  
  
"Understood." The lab tech said quickly.  
  
"Good. Keep working on isolating those genes." She left the room with a curt, professional nod.   
  
I went back to my computer to think. I had definitely uncovered yet another mystery. 'What are they trying to do, make Super Cats?' I wondered, 'what the hell is the military gonna do with a bunch of cats anyway...' 


	7. What Dreams Will Tell

What Dreams Will Tell:   
  
  
I lay back onto my pillow, trying to sleep -- but sleep wouldn't come. That seemed to be the trend of my sleep patterns. If I wanted sleep, it didn't come. But anyway, the week had been a busy one and my mind simply refused to shut down. I knew Manticore was now a fully functional military base, yet it seemed that its real purpose was yet to be fulfilled. Whatever its real purpose was, it still evade my logic, I could not fit all the pieces together. My mind kept wandering, jumping from track to track as I pondered... I found myself alone, walking along the high perimeter fence that surrounded Manticore's property. The moon was full and should've been quite bright, but a thick cloud cover made the night thick and dark. The fence I walked along rose 15 feet high and was made of pure razor wire. Huge coils of barbed wire arched in over top, as if to make a roof over my head. Damn scary lookin' fence if ya asked me. Nothing could get in. Nothing could get out.   
  
Suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. That prickly, deja vu feeling once again coursed down my spine. Instantly I tensed and spun towards the horrible fence. Just on the other side a pair of almond yellow eyes starred straight at me, unblinking through the thick forest brush. Slowly she stepped out of the thick shadows. Her fawn colored hair fell about her and framed her face. Those starring yellow eyes got closer.   
  
"They have tried to fence me out -- but they can't," she hissed. Her voice was like the growl of a cat. "They will try to cage them in -- but they can't do that either. Because they're mine!" Suddenly she leapt at the fence, at me.   
  
I awoke with a start -- sitting straight up, drenched in a cold sweat. 'What the hell...' I wondered in terrified shock, 'who's 'they?!' 


	8. Explanations

Explanations:   
  
  
Sector 3, Block 1 was the first block to be set up for inhabitants. Extra blankets, soft pillows, and plenty of towels were brought in -- seemed more like a hotel then any military base I'd ever seen, and I've seen plenty. I decided to risk a question to Lydecker.   
  
"Block 1 will not be housing soldiers, Jones. In-vitro women will be in there -- we need to take good care of them so they'll take care of my chimeras." His answer gave much more information then I'd expected.  
  
"Chimeras, Sir?" I asked, confused. A few pieces fell into place in my mind. He glanced at me. Must've been in a pensive mood because he actually offered more information.  
  
"I think it's time I filled you in on Manticore's mission, Jones." A cunning half-smile spread over his face.   
  
"Right sir, but I think I'm starting to get an idea..." I trailed off. The idea forming in my head was way to impossible for it to be true.  
  
"My office, Jones. 1300 -- I'll give you the run down." With that, Lydecker strode off down the long hallway, leaving me to stare at his back.  
  
I spent the next two hours on my usual rounds -- checking surveillance equipment and looking in on my ground crews. Managed to swing by my office to look up the word 'chimera' -- I had to see if it meant what I thought it did. "Gr. Myth, a fire-breathing monster having a lion's head, a goat's body, and a serpent's tail 1 any similar fabulous monster 2 a hybrid being with two or more combinations of DNA, example: human and feline" Yup, I'd been right...   
  
Lydecker was waiting for me in his office. He looked stiff and serious, sitting behind a plain wooden desk, the latest in computer technology at his fingertips. It was an interesting contrast; old fashion desk, high tech equipment. He motioned for me to close the door and sit down.   
  
"Most of the people working here, Jones, will have no idea what goes on behind these walls -- I'd like to keep it that way." His voice lowered at the last phrase, almost threatening. I nodded in response, he continued.   
  
"I'm telling you this because your position here requires that you know everything about this building and what goes on around it. I'd rather you knew -- and kept those under you from knowing, then you having to work around a secret."   
  
"Understood Sir." I said in my serious tone.   
  
"Very well then." He paused, considering his next words. "Manticore was designed as a research facility. We are going to be genetically engineering soldiers -- perfect soldiers. We're expanding on another facility's research to create a more flawless soldier - one able to blend in with regular society. Manticore technology will be the best in the world - worth millions." Ahh, there was that glimmer in his eyes again.  
  
"Chimeras, Sir?" I asked, remembering the word from our earlier conversation. He smiled a sly, ambitious smile.   
  
"Yes Jones -- we're going to combine human DNA with feline DNA, and perhaps other forms of DNA, to create a perfect soldier."   
  
"And once they're born Sir?" I asked.   
  
"I will train them myself. Teach them how to use their abilities. Teach them their duty, their mission. They will be the ultimate warriors." I nodded gravely.   
  
"Just think, instead of sending 1000 soldiers into battle and loosing 100, we could send 10 perfect soldiers and loose none." Ahh, the visionary in him was coming out. I smiled in understanding. I was not shocked, and I knew I could keep this a secret -- it was what I had expected, yet hearing it out loud... well, was harder to hear then I'd imagined it'd be.   
  
"Do you have any questions Jones?" I thought for a moment.   
  
"Why you, Sir?" Lydecker smiled.   
  
"That, my friend, will have to wait for another time." 


	9. First Arrivals

First Arrival:   
  
  
The in-vitro women had been living at Manticore for some months now. Well, you could hardly call them women -- most were between 16 and 19 years old. Sad in a way. I pitied them. But they were getting paid a hell of a lot to be here, and I didn't hear a lot of complaining. Funny, looking back at all my years at Manticore, only one of those women ever stood out in my mind, and that was only because she was the only one who ever tried to escape.   
  
They weren't treated like soldiers of course - but they were put on a very strict routine of daily exercise, gene therapy, psychiatric evaluations, a specialized diet, and group activities. It was made very clear to these women that the science projects they were carrying belonged to Manticore, not to them. They were just a womb to the scientists who hovered over them.  
  
I learned from Lydecker, who was anxiously awaiting the first arrivals, that the X1 generation, as is had been dubbed, had minimal feline DNA -- they had mostly tweaked their human chromosomes to maximum capability. When I asked why, Lydecker said, "we're still developing the research," in his usual evasive tone. I didn't ask for more.  
  
The first X1 was born on a dreary, early spring day. The mother went into labor and 8 hours later the very first Manticore prototype was brought into the world. That was the first time I ever saw a true smile on Lydecker's face. He was smiling like a proud papa.   
  
The mother of the new arrival was given some meds to recover, sent to the Pych Unit for evaluations and was discharged from the site within 15 hours of giving birth. I've often wondered what became of her and the others...   
  
The child, a male, was taken to another room in Sector 9. Tests and analysis were stared immediately. He was allowed to cry right after he was born, but after those first few moments, all crying was ignored. Classical Conditioning -- only reward positive behavior, ignore all others. He learned quickly -- baby wails were rarely heard in the halls of Manticore. I looked in on the little guy with curiosity whenever I could, at a week old he already seemed like a tough, determined little thing.   
  
"Follow me Jones," Lydecker said a week later. I followed him to Sector 9 and into the nursing room.   
  
"This is the future of Manticore," he stated with a smile, peering down at the red-faced young' in.  
  
"He's gonna be one hell of a soldier sir," I commented in reply. Lydecker nodded his agreement. I could already see the wheels turning in his mind - plans for the future no doubt.  
  
"What's his name?" I asked as Lydecker slowly reached out and picked the little guy up.   
  
"Name?" His tone was almost scornful. "They won't be given names. They'll need to relate as a team, names give too much individuality. No, they'll have numbers." He explained, speaking as if to a toddler.  
  
He gently turned the baby boy over, showing the back on his neck. A barcode.   
  
"The barcodes are etched into their gene sequence -- it's a built in tracking and identification system." He continued.  
  
"Ingenious." I said, though internally I was fighting shock. After all, I was human, raised with certain traditions. This seemed so science fiction it was almost unreal, and definitely disturbing.  
  
"Of course, 12 numbers is a lot to memorize and use -- so we'll use the last 3 -- this one will be known as X1-122." Lydecker said, smiling at the boy as he laid him gently back into his little bed.  
  
"Why not make the barcodes in order? X1-111, then X1-112, X1-113, etc.?" I asked, confused. Lydecker raised an eyebrow.   
  
"It's a random computerized system of numbering. If they're ever captured or killed, the enemy wouldn't be able to identify them. They'll have no idea which level of Manticore technology they're dealing with. Added security." Every once in a while the strategic part of Lydecker's thoughts popped up, I was willing to bet this was one of those moments. 


	10. The Early Years

The Early Years:   
  
  
The next four months brought eight more X1s into the world that was Manticore. Another male, X1-547, a female X1-394... the list went on. I made little effort to memorize their names, err, numbers - I would never have much contact with them anyway. Well, within a year all the X1s had been born -- 18 in total. 18 newly minted Manticore soldiers. Lydecker walked around beaming, hope for the future burned in his eyes.  
  
Training started the moment they came into the world. 'Be tough little soldiers' was the message. The only message. And they learned it quickly. Their only contacts were each other, a few nurses, and of course, Lydecker. You couldn't even really say they were unhappy -- after all, they knew no other life.   
  
From the moment they could walk they walked in order, marching through hallways in perfect soldier formation. It was actually quite impressive to see two and three year olds marching perfectly down the halls, perfectly well behaved. How many well-behaved toddlers do you know? See, told ya it was impressive. Anyway, they didn't have toys; 'playtime' was spent rolling around play fighting (which was always encouraged). They always reminded me of kittens who learn how to hunt and kill by playing with littermates.   
  
First words were typically "Sir," "Mission," "Duty," or "Discipline." Which was fitting seeing as those were the words they were bombarded with from birth. Classroom work was started at 1 and by the time they were 5 they knew more then most high school grads. Mission. Duty. Discipline. Three words they heard day in and day out, every day, and in every room. "Mind over Matter." They were taught that they could do anything once they put their minds to it. Heck, I even started to believe it!   
  
The play fighting turned into learning techniques, which turned into sparing, contests, and developing speed and skill. By the time they were 7 most could easily flip a grown man on his back with ease. That was another amazing sight. If someone had told me I would watch little kids take out whole units of trained soldiers I would've laughed and told whomever to get off whatever they were on. But here I was, and there they were.  
  
They were the best soldiers in the world. That's what they had been bred to be. What they were meant to be. But I could tell Lydecker wanted more. The glimmer in his eyes slowly faded away, taking with it all the proud smiles. Yes, they were fast, but not fast enough. Yes, their reflexes were twice as quick as a normal human's -- Lydecker wanted them four times as fast. Yes, they learned quickly, but they just did not seem to have a natural aptitude for learning and memorizing. They were the bravest and fiercest soldiers I'd ever seen, but they weren't enough, not for Lydecker. Not for Manticore. So, before the X1s had even reached 4 years of age, Lydecker started again. 


	11. Dreams

Dreams:   
  
  
Too much ambition always causes some sort of fall or set back. The X2's were Lydecker's. He told the doctors to push the research to the max; to make the ultimate soldier. He didn't want more experiments or cautious steps of progress. He wanted his perfect soldiers and he wasn't willing to wait. So, probably against their better judgment, the doctors complied -- and the X2 generation was created.   
  
The first two years went perfectly according to plan. They far surpassed what the X1s had been at 2. Lydecker was very pleased -- walked around like an arrogant turkey, all puffed up, proud of his little projects. Ah yes, that glimmer in his eye shown pretty strong in those days.  
  
Just after they turned 3 the X2s' psychological tests started showing signs that something wasn't quite right. I overheard a conversation between two psychiatrists one day while on my rounds near Sector 7. It went something like this:   
  
"It's very strange -- their emotions have all but disappeared. Their communication skills have digressed and they're all having dreams about some young woman with yellow eyes."   
  
"Psychotic killing machines, just what the world needs..." The other doctor replied. The sarcasm just barely masked true uncertainty and concern.  
  
I found myself out by the perimeter fence, night was quickly falling. I scanned the trees beyond the fence, remembering my last encounter out here... but I saw nothing save the black shadows of the forest. I turned back towards the looming building. There she was, perched on a low branch in a near-by tree. With the grace of a cat, she leapt noiselessly onto the ground in front of me.   
  
"I told you they couldn't fence me out." Her yellow eyes stared, unblinking.  
  
"How did you..." I stammered, glancing at the formidable fence.   
  
"They let me in." She said in a harsh whisper.  
  
"Who did...?" I asked, cautiously. I looked nervously around me, but saw no one.  
  
She gave me a sly smile and turned to look behind her. A vision of the X2s formed out of the misty night air, jumping out of the shadows. All of them were standing, grouped together, yellow eyes glowing, starring. She turned back to me, and they disappeared, evaporating into the night sky.   
  
"Why...?" I stared to ask.   
  
"They're like me. They'll help me." She almost purred.   
  
"Help you how?" I stammered, unable to choke back the fear rising in my throat.  
  
That sly, cat-got-the-mouse grin returned. An instant later, she was gone. Following the vision of the X2s back into the shadow.  
  
I opened my eyes and found myself, not out by the perimeter fence, but in my own room, once again drenched in cold sweat. "Damn that dream was real..." I muttered, wiping my clammy hands. Too real. I got up, went to my computer and started checking surveillance, leaving block 12 for last. Everything was quiet. The Block 12 cameras showed all the X2s sleeping peacefully, save one who had a familiar sly smile at the corners of his mouth. 


	12. Anomaly

Anomaly:   
  
  
The first signs of a real problem came one sunny afternoon in April. The X2s were but 6 years old. They were on a conditioning run around the property, following the perimeter fence, when they spotted an X1 returning from a mission. The prototype generations were not allowed to interact, but they knew of each other's existence. Apparently, the X2 generation didn't like the competition.  
  
For some unexplainable reason, the group psychology of the X2s said "attack!" And attack they did. If it hadn't have been for the TAC leaders and the many guards with stun guns that X1 would surely have been killed. Even so, he was badly injured.   
  
Lydecker ripped into the group -- the fiercest lecture I'd ever heard, and I wasn't known for being soft either. You could feel his yells shake the walls. I was put in charge of re-grouping guard teams and organizing the labor forces, so I often passed through the hallway leading to sector 7 -- Lydecker's voice echoed in the halls for days after. But later, he confided in me that, through all his screams, the X2s had seemed like they weren't even listening.   
  
The within the next few days, the group attacked one of the guards assigned to watch them. They killed him before anyone even had a chance to react. Chaos started to show its ugly head in the halls of Manticore. People were scared, scared because they didn't understand what was going on.  
  
Two of the X2s were found by Lydecker, wandering the halls. They tried to attack him and take his gun; he was forced to shoot both of them down. I came up on him right afterwards, he was shaking -- it obviously pained him to have to shoot down his own kids, his accomplishments. I just figured he was lucky there'd only been two. Lucky he was still there to feel pain.  
  
"They were showing signs of mild psychosis, but now its seems they've imploded." Lydecker said into the phone the next morning.  
  
"I don't know why, we're trying to figure that out," he continued,   
  
"Right, yes. No, I understand. I will execute the order." He hung up, looking downfallen. He glanced up at me -- I was there to get some release signatures for maintenance work.   
  
"Jones, have four padded cells, capable to locking up anything, built in the basement." There were many cells in the basement, even I was slightly nervous of the damn shadows that seemed to lurk in the corners down there.  
  
"Yes sir." I said, a bit shaky. I got my signatures and walked off to see to my job.   
  
The cells were ready in a week. My crews had converted old storage rooms from the original structure of the building into thickly padded cells. These cells were bigger and better built then the others down there. The thick concrete would soak up any yells or screams, and the heavy metal doors would keep anything inside. Anything. By the time these cells were ready, the X2s had tried to kill four more guards, a TAC leader, and a doctor.   
  
"I want the oldest, the youngest, the one with the worst psychosis, and the one with the most normal psychology," was Lydecker's order. The whole X2 generation stood at attention just inside the doors to Block 12, all were heavily sedated and looking dazed.  
  
Five TAC leaders went into block 12 and removed those four prototypes. The oldest, X2-723, glanced up at me, his glaring, almond shaped, yellow eyes sparkled despite the drugs. I shuddered. They were roughly hauled off to the basement and locked into the padded cells. Lydecker held onto the keys.   
  
That same night, while the 7-year-old X2s were sleeping (sleeping soundly at that, having been feed another dose of sedative at supper) the 10-year-old X1s were marched silently in. Each X2 got a bullet in the head. It was done. A vision of their souls flying over the perimeter fence to meet the yellow-eyed legend formed in my mind.   
  
"They were an anomaly..." Lydecker's voice trailed sadly off. 


	13. Another Beginning

Another Beginning:   
  
  
The X3 generation was born about a year after the X2s had been terminated. They were still a step up from the original X1s -- but they were much more carefully and conservatively designed then the X2s. A lot of thought and planning had gone into this generation. I could sense there was a lot of pressure from above to get this generation right. I could only guess how far back loosing an entire class had set Lydecker's plans.   
  
The new plan was to slowly build up the generational ability through the DNA. The scientists would slowly add feline DNA, while still optimizing the human chromosomes as well. Instead of taking one big leap like they had done with the X2s. The forces that be were hoping to achieve the perfect Manticore soldier by the X5 generation.   
  
The X3's were designed, more specifically, to be infantry soldiers. They would be the ones on the front lines -- in hand-to-hand combat. Fighting up close and personal with whoever the foe may be. For this purpose their training centered around combat, technique and weaponry. Their classroom time was vastly decreased so they could spend more time sparing and training. The class time they did have was used to teach them about tactics and strategy, how to handle their weapons and how to cope with any situations they might encounter on a battlefield. They were taught to think on their feet, while fighting, while moving, while killing.  
  
Occasionally I would walk around the grounds while the X3s were training. They were awesome to watch. They melted into their surroundings like they belonged there, like they were born from the very material they dissolved back into. The training they received day in and day out was evident in their sparing. They moved faster then my eyes could watch. A 'long' fight for a pair of X3s was somewhere in the area of 10 to 15 seconds. They were a blur of whirling motion, not 7 year old kids learning to be soldiers.  
  
Lydecker was pleased with how the X3s were turning out -- as were the scientists who studied them. So pleased in fact, it was determined that work on beginning X4 could be started -- only a year and a half after the X3 generation had arrived.   
  
X4s were yet another step up from the X3s. They were designed for special opts. They were the ones who would perform the specialized military assignments. They were training in the art of spying, assassinations, capture, as well as some combat skills. They spent twice as much time in the classroom learning their specialized tasks. Trained both in the military manner and in the ways and techniques of the CIA and like organizations. I'm sure that by the time they were ten, every single one of the 37 odd X4s could've been certified in any sort of spy/special opts. organizations -- and gotten the job done faster and more accurately then any human alive.  
  
Let me see if I can't give you an example of some of their training. I was on my rounds one day and happened to step in on a lesson in brainwashing. The TAC leaders were demonstrating different techniques on some poor subject who was strapped into a chair, a red lazed shooting into his eye. The lesson went something like this: 'mentally and physically exhaust the subject until their mental ability to resist is low. Bombard them with the information you want them to absorb. If they resist, physical punishment is administered. Electric shock, breaking fingers... etc.' It was intense. Lydecker was pacing in the back of the room, watching them eagerly soak up the information. He strode over to me.   
  
"Amazing, isn't it?" He asked in a low voice. I nodded in response.   
  
"But the best part of it all is that they learn all this on brainwashing, and don't even realize it's exactly what is done to them. Everyday." With that, he walked away, a smile barely hinting at the corners of his mouth.   
  
The X4s were sent out on their first special opts mission at 6 years of age. They were to perform surveillance on a foreign military base, gather information, and finally assassinate the leading general. They passed the test with flying colors. No one even suspected they were ever there. I later heard that the local newspapers suggested a ghost had killed their general.   
  
It was later in that year that the researchers declared that they had solved the mystery of the X2 psychosis. The defect in the genes had been uncovered -- something about their brain chemistry going into an overload, and the scientist were now comfortable applying that amount, or more, of feline DNA to the next X series. They now had more then sufficient data to proceed in creating the ultimate Manticore soldier -- X5. 


End file.
